


Gosnay, 2014

by bartsugsy



Category: Emmerdale
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-17
Updated: 2018-10-17
Packaged: 2019-08-03 15:46:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16328906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bartsugsy/pseuds/bartsugsy
Summary: france and loneliness (or: how aaron met emile)





	Gosnay, 2014

**Author's Note:**

> just pretend it’s charming that i know multiple people who live in france and speak french and instead of consulting any of them, i just made it all up.
> 
> this was meant to be cute and long, but ended up brief and deeply sad. 
> 
> it’s also the most niche thing i’ve ever posted and that’s saying something.

Aaron first meets Emile on a Friday morning. He’s got a hole in the sleeve of his worn out grey t-shirt stretched tight over huge biceps and he’s hot, Aaron supposes in an absent sort of way.

“ _Salut_ ” Aaron says, raising one hand in greeting. “ _ J’arrive.” _

Emile grins at Aaron’s accent and leans against the door post of the tiny garage, arms folded and tapping the broken windscreen wiper he’s holding up against his shoulder.

Aaron finishes up, goes out to meet him, manages to find a smile from somewhere. There aren’t enough (or any) men in Gosnay to flirt with so it feels good just to have the opportunity, like flexing an old muscle. Emile waves as he leaves.

-

The second time they meet, it’s in a bar and Aaron is drinking beer but considering something stronger.  Emile orders whiskey and accidentally bumps his elbow into Aaron’s arm. He turns his head around and smiles as he sees Aaron. 

“ _ Vous êtes le mécanicien, c'est ça? _ ” 

Aaron nods and stares back at his drink. Clearly unable to take a hint, Emile keeps talking about his business and how impressed he was with Aaron’s work the week before. Although Aaron had only sold him a new windscreen wiper so he wonders if he’s mistranslated that last part.  

Aaron sighs and decides to actually try to have a conversation anyway - it’s good for business and Emile’s nice enough to look at. What else does he have to do, anyway?

-

By the thirty-second time, Emile is a loyal customer. Aaron sees him near enough every fortnight, always for some small job or another. Emile never makes fun of his objectively terrible French and doesn’t really speak to Aaron about anything other than cars, but he’s got a warm smile and he stirs something long lost within Aaron. Aaron likes the constant of it, he thinks - the knowledge that twice a month there’s someone who wants to see him. Even if it’s just because Aaron’s the best mechanic in Pas-de-Calais. Or so Emile says.

His mum last called three months ago and they spoke for 3 minutes and 17 seconds. She seemed well enough, if slightly distracted. He spent the entire call wishing that they had more time.

He could hear Cain’s voice talking to Lisa in the background and a space deep in his heart had ached. 

-

When they meet for the forty-ninth time, Aaron has a bag packed and stored in the boot of a car, fake passport stowed away in the inside zip. His heart is pounding as he smiles and Emile looks at him like he knows that Aaron is about to make a mistake, but only talks about the new tyre that’s just been fitted on his van. 

Emile walks over and pats Aaron on the arm as he leaves, shakes Aaron’s body a little as he holds on for just a few seconds too long. 

“ _ Bon, vous avez mon numéro _ .” he says, already turning to walk away.

“ _ Oui _ .” Aaron says. He tries to find a way to express his appreciation for what Emile is about to do. He can’t quite manage it, but stutters out  “ _ Emile, merci beaucoup. _ ” all the same.

Emile doesn’t even turn around, just keeps retreating towards the door, but waves a hand up in acknowledgment at Aaron.

Aaron stares at Emile’s back for three seconds, before darting back to the Fiat sitting at the back of the shop. He grabs his bag, pulls on his woolly hat over his head, as close down to his eyes as possible, and clambers into the back of the truck.

**Author's Note:**

> i’m bartsugsy on tumblr


End file.
